Skip to main content

Along Comes a Train at 5:15

If I were going to spin for parties (and in particular, 80's themed parties), I'd call myself DJ Amtrak. That way people wouldn't be surprised if there were a few trainwrecks every now and again.

And what brought this sudden bout of wistful thinking mixed with a tinge of self-deprecation? A couple things actually. But before I get to the answer, we have to go back about 12 hours.

A friend of mine (the brother of a friend, to be exact) hunts all forms of wild game for later human consumption. My favorite of these would be venison. Dan's been bartering with venison for many many years now and I'm more than happy to fix his PCs in exchange for dead bambi. Today was no exception.

He had to clear his freezer of some of last year's kill to make room for this year's kill, and could I help him do that and oh yeah look at his ailing computer while I'm there? Sure.

So I headed up this morning and quickly determined that the system was horked. In a big way. But we headed to Circuit City for some upgrades nonetheless. I got the new harddrive in and the new 256MB video card.

So, worked on the computer, etc. etc. As I'm making one of the many trips to the fridge (never one to turn down free beverages), his wife asks me if I want to take "those albums" while I'm here (in exchange for working on HER computer). Sure, I said, trying hard not to salivate. "Those albums" are an eclectic collection of Shelley's in damn near pristine condition. She aquired the collection when she worked at a local record store and has stored them (correctly, I might add) for over 20 years. The collection leans toward hair metal, but is surprisingly rounded in spite of that.

I won't bore you with the details of the collection, but going through it this evening was just a wicked ride. I dusted off the decks, cued up some vinyl and started spinning. Then I found the box of 45's. Holy crap! I could take just the 45's and deejay any 80's night party and rock the house! Couple that with the 12"s in my collection (which seem to live mostly in the 80's and 90's) and it would just be nuts!!

Hence the thought pattern leading to DJ Amtrak.

The irony is, I forgot to bring home Shelley's computer to work on (but I will damn sure be getting it this week).

All of this is also motivating me to make arrangements to pare down my own collection (some of which has already been supplanted with her albums from earlier trips). In addition to the re-org'ing, I'll be moving some things around in my little area.

I'm going to move the turntables closer to the computer (so I can cue albums easily and run CoolEdit Pro (I refuse to call it Adobe Audition) to make some Toddly podcasts (and start the process of transferring the vinyl to mp3 to go along with my master plan of making my iPod be the digital representation of my vinyl collection).

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After having Nancy's company's Christmas party last night and my company's Christmas party on the same night, I'm a tiny bit tired. There are unfound rumors that at one point I got up on stage with a VP, our wives and two others and danced my fool arse off. But I'm not giving them too much credence (unless someone got pictures).

night all.


Popular posts from this blog

Marriage Material??

I had a friend call me today, fuming. I consider myself a good listener on most days. Considering that I was out of town on a work trip and doing absolutely nothing in my hotel room, my listening game was on-point.

She recounted the exchange that sent her off. I will spare you some of the more personal details, but the gist was, at one point, the dude-bro she was talking to flat out told her that she wasn’t marriage material.

Torn between wanting to be a supportive friend and being completely gobsmacked, I felt her frustration. No. That’s not quite right. I didn’t feel the same frustration she felt. I’m approaching what some consider middle age. I’m white. I’m primarily interested in women. Oh, and I have a penis., I can never truly feel the same frustration she was feeling. Or an anger that comes from the same place her anger came from. No matter how in touch I am witn my feminine side (whatever the fuck that actually means).

Instead, the frustration and anger I was feeling w…

Post Con-Fusion

It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this morning. I was in the middle of a chapter that I started at lunch and had every intention of continuing this morning. But, much like me, it seems the characters wanted to sleep in today. They wanted to just hunker under the covers as the rain danced its hypnotic melody on my roof. The swoosh swoosh swoosh of the ceiling fan keeping time with the rest of the nocturnal orchestra.

So, I shifted gears. I am taking  a course on getting more words on the page. Something that I want to do need to do if I am to get all of these books that are floating around in my head out in to the world. It's not so much that I think the whole world will love and adore them, although I certainly hope that is the case. No, it's more the fact that it's getting crowded up there. I need to get these words on the page for my own sanity as much as anything else.


The Kindness of Strangers

This post is going to be a little bit all over the place. If you know me, you are probably used to that by now. If you don't know me, welcome. My name is Todd. I'll be your slightly insecure author and docent on this tour of randomness we call Todd's Mind.

I am going to get a little real, and probably a little raw here today. I would normally be terrified of that. Of exposing myself to the world at large. But in looking at the stats for this blog in the 22weeks or so since I've left Facebook, the reality, I'm exposing myself to about 10 of you. Less if some of you come back and re-read some of the posts. So...yeah. Here goes.

I can count on 1 finger the number of times including today where I have run out of gas. Not talking about pulling into the gas station on vapors, but actually having the car die and coast to a stop because that life-giving dead dinosaur juice was no longer in the tank.

One time.


It's my own fault. I don't like to admit when I&#…